


Grima, Fell Tactician

by CarbonDogMK



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Roleswap, crack taken seriously(?)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-01-18 15:57:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21279371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarbonDogMK/pseuds/CarbonDogMK
Summary: Grima chases the children through the timestream... except she loses all her memories in the process, landing unconscious in a grassy field.Meanwhile, in the same world, Robin never left Plegia and he was raised as the vessel he was meant to be...The Grima/Robin roleswap you never asked for. Shenanigans ensue. Serious fic, but also pretty self-indulgent so adjust expectations accordingly.
Comments: 23
Kudos: 89





	1. The Verge of (a different) History

“Hey.”

Chrom reached down and prodded the shoulder of the woman who was sprawled out on the grass.

“Hey. You alright there?” 

The woman stirred, shifted, and let out a groan.

“Oh good, you’re awake -“

Chrom’s breath caught in his throat as he gave a start. The woman had opened her eyes, and they glowed an unnatural, fierce red. Despite the groggy and disheveled expression on her face, he would be lying if he said he wasn’t at least a little unsettled.

Not wanting to offend her, however, he tried his best to hide his surprise and extended a hand. “Ah. Er, sorry about that. You know, there are better places to take a nap than on the ground.”

She took his hand and Chrom helped her to her feet. It was then that he was able to get a good look at her. She was wearing a Grimleal coat, snow-white hair pulled back in twintails. Already quite unusual for the circumstances, but then he noticed something else. 

It was subtle, but the air around her was shimmering and tinged purple, almost as if she was giving off some sort of aura. Chrom had seen something like this before, but only when mages had been using extremely powerful spells. It certainly struck him as odd. Frederick was sure to not like this either.

That being said, far be it from him to not help a woman found lying unconscious in a field, regardless of whether he found her strange.

“You feeling alright?” he asked again.

“Er… yes, thank you, Chrom,” the woman responded, rubbing her forehead and still looking a little disoriented.

“Not a problem,” he replied, noting that she seemed to know who he was, though that wasn’t all that surprising, with him being the prince and all that. “If I may ask, though, where are you from? We don’t see people around here wearing garb like yours very often.”

“I, um… “ she paused, brows furrowed. “I… actually… don’t know.”

Immediately Frederick narrowed his eyes. “You claim to not know where you’re from, and yet you know the prince’s name? Pegasus dung. Milord, get behind me. I suspect a trick.”

Chrom frowned. He knew Frederick meant well, of course, but it seemed unlikely. “Why would it be?” he asked. “When we found her, she was clearly passed out.”

Lissa chimed in. “I’ve heard of this! It’s called amnesia! Losing your memory!”

The woman also frowned. “That… seems accurate to describe me right now,” she said. “I… can only remember my name. Strange.”

Frederick scoffed, but Chrom ignored him. “Well, that’s a start at least. That should make it easier for us to figure out where you’re from. What is it?”

“My name… is Grima. It’s good to meet you all, I suppose.”

Chrom gaped. “Excuse me, WHAT did you say?” he blurted out. Frederick and Lissa exchanged panicked looks behind him. 

Grima raised her eyebrows, looking slightly offended. “Is there… something wrong with my name?”

“Uh…” Chrom was at a loss for words. If this woman wasn’t pretending, which he didn’t think she was, this was definitely some REALLY severe amnesia going on. Who lived on the continent of Ylisse and _hadn’t_ heard the name Grima?

“I think… we had better take this discussion back to town,” he offered. “What do you say? We’ll be a lot more comfortable than here, standing in the middle of a field.”

Grima shrugged. “Alright, that’s fine by me. I do need to figure out what I’m going to do from here on out…”

Today was certainly a weird day, Chrom thought to himself as he parried an axe strike. First they’d found this… woman lying in a field, memories not included. Then she’d named herself as the fell dragon, the god of annihilation, without even knowing it. And now here she was fighting alongside them, effortlessly conjuring massive dark spikes and impaling bandits with simple snaps of her fingers. 

What in Naga’s name was going on here?

He twisted his body and brought Falchion around, felling the brigand with a deep slash across the chest. Across the square, Frederick ran another through with his lance. The battle was winding down, it was just their leader left - 

Chrom turned his head in time to see Grima dance backwards, deftly avoiding a wild swing from the bandit boss. Then with a movement so fast he almost missed it, she twirled and ran him through with her own sword, an elaborate-looking blade he had sworn he’d seen somewhere before. The man slumped to the ground, bleeding profusely from the chest. 

It had all been so clean, so surgical, like she had done it many times before. Chrom suppressed a shudder. He was glad she was on their side, at least for now… and if he could help it, it would hopefully stay that way.

“Where on earth did you learn to fight like _that_?” Frederick asked her suspiciously as they regrouped in the middle of the square.

“I’ve never seen any magic like yours, either,” added Lissa, looking nervous.

Grima just shrugged, grinning widely. She looked relaxed, and not like she had just killed a dozen bandits without breaking a sweat. “I’ve told you, I don’t remember anything about my life,” she replied. “I certainly enjoyed that, though! Do you all do this often?”

Chrom raised an eyebrow. “‘Enjoyed’? It was definitely necessary, and we did our duty, but I don’t think I would use that word…”

“It all seemed to come so naturally,” said Grima, looking thoughtful. “Perhaps I used to be in the army as well.”

“Maybe it helps that you’re a literal god,” blurted Lissa without thinking.

“…Excuse me?” Grima turned to look at her, an eyebrow raised quizzically. “Whatever do you mean?”

Chrom groaned. Frederick’s face was hard as usual, but underneath he looked slightly pale. 

“We’d better head back to Ylisstol,” Chrom decided. “Come with us, Grima, I’ll… explain as we walk.”


	2. Unwelcome (but also some welcome) Change

“So let me get this straight,” said Grima, wiping her grease-covered hands on the grass. She and Chrom had demolished the bear meat Frederick had roasted in record time.

“Your nation’s history is founded on a man who was blessed by Naga, the Divine Dragon, in order to defeat a Fell Dragon who wished to destroy the world. And this Fell Dragon… is me?”

“Well, that last part is just my own theory,” Chrom admitted. “But it certainly seems to fit. I mean, your name matches, your battle prowess is this afternoon was nothing short of godlike, and you have that…” He gestured. “Aura? Around you that I’ve rarely ever seen with human magicians.”

“I’ve felt kinda jumpy ever since we met you,” Lissa piped up. “And they say Grima is the embodiment of despair and ruin.”

“Lissa!” Chrom snapped. “I’m sure that isn’t her fault. We’re all on edge right now. An attack on Southtown would be cause enough.”

Frederick spoke up. “I’m not sure, milord. I too have had a strange feeling of unease since we met on that field.”

Chrom glanced over at Grima, whose eyebrows were knitted in concentration. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Tell me if you feel anything different,” she said abruptly. At this, her eyes flashed and her aura flared, expanding in size.

Immediately, Chrom felt a crushing sense of hopelessness come over him. Doubts long since forgotten began to gnaw at his thoughts. _You’re not strong enough_, they said. _You’re not worthy of being Ylisse’s protector,_ they said.

He found himself short of breath, gasping for air. Lissa had burst into tears, and Frederick’s face had turned ashen, hands planted on the ground to steady himself.

And then just as quickly, the feeling was gone. The doubts lingered, though, and Chrom felt drained. Not physically, but emotionally, mentally - even spiritually. 

He looked up, and Grima was at Lissa’s side, rubbing her back, face screwed up in concern.

“My apologies,” she murmured quietly. “I didn’t think that would have as much of an effect as it did. I shouldn’t have.”

“Woman, are you trying to kill us?” Frederick barked. Chrom noticed his right hand inching towards his sword.

So did Grima, and she quickly held up her gloved hands. “I assure you I am not,” she insisted. “An honest mistake. It appears I am not even aware of the extent of my own power.”

“Stay your sword, Frederick,” grunted Chrom through gritted teeth. “I trust her. It’s clear she doesn’t remember even who she is, and she fought with us to save Ylissean lives. That’s enough for me. That said…”

He rose and walked around the fire to comfort a still-sniffling Lissa. 

“I don’t doubt now that you are indeed the Grima written about in our history books. But then that leaves two important questions. How did you lose your memories, and how did you even get here in the first place, in a human form no less?”

“I would say three, milord,” added Frederick sharply. “Most importantly, what are we to do with her?”

Arm around Lissa’s shoulders, Chrom looked up at Grima. To his surprise, she was staring into the fire, her face echoing his own, equal parts apprehension and confusion.

Their sleep that night was uneasy, punctuated by hazy, uncertain dreams.

At least, until Chrom awoke. The moon was still high in the sky, nowhere near morning, but something felt off. Quickly, he looked around. Grima was still asleep, and so was Frederick. Lissa, however, was also awake. Chrom could see the moonlight reflected in her eyes.

“Lissa?”

“Chrom. You’re awake too?”

Standing up, he strapped on Falchion. “Something’s not right,” he whispered. “I’m going to go take a look nearby.”

Lissa followed him. They walked for a few minutes, but Chrom still wasn’t sure what was the cause of his unease. It certainly wasn’t Grima this time, they should be far enough away…

“It’s so quiet. I don’t like this, Chrom,” Lissa whispered, clinging on to him.

And then the earth shook violently.

Frederick awoke with a start. The ground was shaking - an earthquake? They hadn’t had one of these in a very long time. The air smelled of smoke, and he could hear faint screams in the distance...

Lissa’s screams!

He jumped up and ran for his horse, noticing that Grima was also awake, confused and looking around. 

“Chrom and Lissa are in danger!” he shouted over his shoulder. “Follow me if you wish!” 

And he was off, spurring his horse into a gallop.

Grima gulped, hesitated, and took off after him.

By the time she caught up to Frederick, he had already found the two. Lissa was talking animatedly about a strange masked man, and Chrom had his sword drawn, eyes scanning the edge of the woods.

“Grima!” he shouted, seeing her run up. “We’re beset by undead foes. Will you help us with this fight?”

“Yes, of course,” she said, pulling her dark tome out of her robes. “Undead, you say?”

“You’ll see in a moment,” Chrom called back, mouth drawn into a tight line.

And then they were upon them, shambling out of the trees, eyes empty and dead, movements erratic and terrifying moans coming from their mouths.

“What in Naga’s name…” Frederick muttered, drawing his lance.

This fight was brutal and long, even after a redhead cavalier and a very noble-sounding archer arrived to assist them. For every Risen that Grima felled with her magic, another two came loping out of the woods. Eventually, she too was forced to switch to her sword. 

She was not prepared for such a test of endurance. All the brigands, she had felled in a single strike. This was different and she was quickly growing fatigued. At one point, she found herself face-to-face with three Risen at once who attacked relentlessly, backing her into the woods. In the state she was in she was finding it difficult to parry three swinging axes simultaneously, and then she didn’t register the terrain behind her until it was too late.

Twisting to block another strike, her back foot met nothing but air, and she screamed as she lost her balance and tumbled backwards into a deep ravine. It had been hidden by the trees and underbrush. Was this how she was to meet her end? How embarrassing. She had been overconfident. She really should have called for help.

What was she supposed to do now, she wondered, strangely calm as she spun through the air. It wasn’t like she could fly, only gods could do something like that -

Wait…

Chrom had rushed into the woods as soon as he had heard Grima’s scream, and with Sully’s help was just now dispatching the final Risen around the ravine. The fight outside the forest had finally subsided, no small thanks to some well-placed arrows from Virion, which he had learned was the archer’s name. He would have to be sure to thank him later. For now, though, he was fearing the worst as he crawled carefully to the edge of the ravine to peer over it.

“Who’re we lookin’ for, Chrom?” Sully asked, dismounting.

“White-haired woman, wearing a Grimleal cloak,” said Chrom. “I’ll explain later,” he added quickly, seeing the look on Sully’s face. “But she’s an ally. Damn it! It’s too dark down there, I can’t see anything!”

“Might hafta wait until the sun comes up all the way,” Sully said concernedly. “You think she’s down there? Wouldn’t’ve survived the fall, that’s for sure.”

“Ugh…” Chrom groaned, head in his hands. “I really hope she’s alright.”

Sully didn’t respond, which Chrom found odd. She always had something to say. He looked up at her, and saw that she was staring above him, mouth agape.

He turned his head and his own jaw dropped open as well. Grima was there, looking rather worse for the wear, but smiling, very much alive, and _levitating in thin air what in Naga’s name was this woman._

“I appreciate the concern, Chrom,” she said. “But you said I was a god, and I thought gods should be able to fly, so…”

She shrugged, almost apologetically. 

Finally, after a few seconds of awkward silence, Chrom managed to stammer out a response.

“You’re _absolutely_ sure that you’re not about to destroy us all?”

She swooped down and landed gently at Chrom’s side. “I do hope you were joking,” she said, frowning. “What good would that do?”

Sully finally broke herself out of her trance, pointing a gauntleted finger directly at Grima. “Okay, mister prince,” she snapped. “You’ve got some serious explaining to do.”

Chrom rubbed his eyes. Could the last 24 hours possibly get any stranger?

Then he heard Lissa’s voice from behind them. “Chroooom! The masked man wants to talk to you! He says he’s from the future!”

…Yes. Yes, it certainly could.


	3. (More welcome) Change

Grima tried her best to keep up with Sully’s relentless questioning as they walked out of the forest. Chrom had run ahead of them with Lissa, and was now a short distance away, introducing himself to a rather slight man wearing a strange butterfly mask.

“So you’re Grima, but ya lost your memories and you’re _not_ gonna to try to kill us all,” summarized Sully. “In fact, now we have a literal dragon god as part of the Shepherds. That the gist of it?”

Grima laughed. “Well, to be frank, I’m still not sure if I’m being tossed in a dungeon as soon as we get to Ylisstol, so we’ll see. It seems to me that Chrom would like me to join, though.”

They walked up to where the rest of the group were gathered. The masked man was currently saying something about the brink of a horrible calamity. “What you saw tonight was but a prelude,” heard Grima as they walked up. “You have been warned.”

“Sounds real encouraging,” commented Sully, rolling her eyes. The man turned to glare at her. 

“What I speak of _will_ come to pass. You must believe -“

He stopped short as his eyes passed over Grima’s face.

Flinching, he pointed a shaking finger directly at her. “Y-you! How did you already… w-what…”

Confused, Grima watched as the masked man visibly tensed up, fist clenched, teeth gritted together. His face, stony calm just a moment ago, was now growing dark with rage, all of it directed towards her.

Surprised at his sudden ferocity, she backed up a step, holding up her hands. “Sorry, I did… what already? I don’t follow…”

The rest of the Shepherds were just as puzzled, and exchanged looks of surprise and bewilderment as they watched the confrontation unfold.

“DO NOT FEIGN INNOCENCE WITH ME, CURSED FELL DRAGON!” he roared, face now twisted in anger. He drew his sword and pointed it directly at Grima. “HOW DARE YOU HAVE THE AUDACITY TO INTERFERE SO QUICKLY! I WILL STRIKE YOU DOWN HERE AND NOW!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” yelled Chrom, drawing his own sword in return and stepping in front of Grima. “What in Naga’s name is going on here?”

“Fath - uh, Chrom! Do not interfere,” shouted the man, voice now higher-pitched and shaking with barely suppressed rage. “I will slay this demon and prevent the calamity this very instant.”

“No, Marth. I will not yield without good reason,” Chrom insisted. “Explain yourself. What is this calamity you speak of? Grima here is an amnesiac. She remembers nothing.”

“Nothing. HA! Nothing, you say!” he spat contemptuously. “Well, I would hope she remembers _this_ face!”

At this, the man tore off his mask with his free hand, and blue locks spilled down his, or now revealed to be her, shoulders. Murmurs broke out among the rest of the Shepherds. 

Grima, however, simply stared.

“I, uh… I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint you,” she replied, tone flat. “Who are you? Chrom, do you know who this is?”

The woman started a moment, as if surprised, but quickly regained her composure. “Impossible! You liar. She is toying with you, Chrom!”

“On what grounds do you claim this?” demanded Chrom again, unflinching.

“In the future, my future, she destroyed everything!” the woman cried. “You and my friends were killed trying to stop her! She took away EVERYTHING we hold dear, and brought ruin upon the world. I cannot let that happen again.”

“What!?” Chrom’s eyes narrowed, and he turned to Grima. “Unbelievable. Grima… is this true?”

...Was it? Grima didn’t know. Could she be from the future also? “I-I do not know,” she stammered. “I have no memory, I swear on it, but yet…”

She certainly did seem to carry that reputation. Could it be possible? True, she revelled in combat, but she didn’t think herself capable of such bloodlust. Maybe in a different time, spurred on by memories she no longer had…?

The woman seemed to hesitate at this, lowering her sword slightly. “No. Inconceivable,” she said. “I do not believe it.” 

She continued to glare at Grima, eyes boring into hers. The tension in the air was palpable. Chrom’s hands tightened on the hilt of his sword.

“I will ask her one question,” she said finally. “Her answer will determine my next course of action.”

Chrom looked at Grima, who nodded slowly, stomach churning with many different emotions at once. 

“What kind of human… would be most likely to kill you in combat?”

Grima blinked. What sort of question was this? 

She forced herself to stop and think. She could levitate at will, manipulate emotions, possessed immense magical power, and was an expert swordfighter. She doubted many could defeat her one-on-one. However, she knew now that her biggest flaw was overconfidence, as just demonstrated in the previous battle, so she would have to say…

“An assassin,” she answered. “A skilled one that could evade my notice and strike me down in a single blow.”

Now it was the woman’s turn to blink, as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. 

“I-Impossible,” she said. “The Grima I knew would never have even entertained the thought of being slain by a human…”

Chrom relaxed slightly, but kept his sword up. “Then you are convinced?”

“I…” 

For the first time since they had met, Marth looked lost. Chrom had no way of knowing what was going on in her head. After all the twists and turns of today, he was ready to believe almost anything.

“Allow me to join the Shepherds,” she said at last, finally sheathing her sword. “I… had not planned to do so, but I fear it is now necessary.”

Chrom ran a hand over his forehead, which he hadn’t even noticed was slicked with sweat. “Well, you saved my sister’s life, and your swordplay is nothing short of impressive, so I would certainly be willing to accept. I would ask one question, however. Why is it necessary?”

“Suffice it to say that if Grima regains her memories, you would do well to have me in your ranks,” replied Marth, still staring at Grima warily.

“Noted. In that case, I must add that killing your fellow Shepherds without consulting me is prohibited,” Chrom said wryly. “Come with us then, we must be on our way back to Ylisstol.”

As they began the march back to the capital, two main thoughts whirled inside Grima’s head.

_I’m officially a Shepherd!_

But more importantly: 

_...What on earth did I DO in the future...?_


	4. Shepherds (and time travellers)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi this isn't dead i've just been busy. sorry bout that :p

Lucina peeked around the corner of the hallway. Grima was standing there in the main room of the Shepherds’ barracks, being introduced by Lissa to Vaike, Sumia, and Maribelle. She definitely wasn’t as talkative as Lucina remembered Robin being, but she was nodding along politely, answering questions when asked. (Most of which were from Maribelle, predictably.)

Shaking her head, Lucina slipped back off to her assigned room. 

The bed was standard Shepherd issue, not much more than a straw mattress, but it still provided more comfort than how Lucina had slept many nights. She flopped down on top of it now, trying to sort everything out in her mind.

This wasn’t the Grima she knew, she was sure of that much. When she had threatened her earlier, she’d seen something new in those eyes. She hadn’t been sure what it was at the time, but now she knew.

It had been fear. Fear and uncertainty. No wonder she hadn’t been able to recognize it, when had the old Grima ever showed anything even remotely close to that?

Now aside from Grima being there, the past seemed familiar enough so far, but that simple fact had just thrown everything up in the air. Robin was absent, replaced by her former mortal enemy. Had they been sent back to the wrong timeline? Her whole plan was in shambles, and here she was, joining up with her father much earlier than expected.

Naga had said to only interfere with key events, as to affect history as little as possible. The least she could do now was to continue to keep her identity a secret, and to avoid associating with the other Shepherds as much as she could. It pained her to do so, but if it was necessary…

Ugh, why _had_ she expected that everything would be exactly the same? Frowning, she draw Falchion from its sheath and stared at it, the blade reflecting the glare of the evening sun.

Well, at the very least, if the Grima she knew showed its face again, she would be ready and waiting.

“Ferox?”

“It’s a kingdom to the north of Ylisse,” Chrom explained to Grima as they walked along. “Even though it’s a militant nation and they value strength above all else, Ylisse has still been on good terms with them for a long time. Emm’s sending us to request aid from them against the Risen threat.”

“Interesting,” said Grima, thoughtful. “Their philosophy is that different from Ylisse’s, and yet you are still allies?”

Chrom nodded. “From what I know, the people there are fighters, yet they do not desire war. They have a very interesting culture for sure. I suspect we might get to experience some of it firsthand.”

“I would like that,” Grima agreed. “It seems there is so much about this world that I don’t know.”

“A kindred spirit, I see,” came a voice from behind her. Grima turned to see a redheaded mage staring at her curiously.

“And you are…?”

“Miriel,” replied the mage, nodding at her. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance. I have been informed that you are suspected to be a human incarnation of the fell dragon?”

“Er, yes, that would be me,” Grima confirmed, a little unnerved at Miriel’s intense gaze. This was going to be a recurring trend, wasn’t it.

“Fascinating. And am I correct in stating that you suffer from complete retrograde amnesia?”

“Uh… yes, I believe that’s the right term for it,” said Grima, not quite liking where this was going.

“Very interesting… in that case, this warrants thorough observation and experimentation,” Miriel murmured, a glint in her eyes. 

Grima turned to Chrom, eyebrows raised. “…Am I to be a test subject now?”

Chrom was trying desperately not to burst out laughing. “Don’t worry,” he said, failing to hide his grin. “You wouldn’t be the only one.”

The Shepherds traveled rather slowly over the next couple days, as their pace was set by how quickly their convoy could travel. As it turned out, this was not very quickly, so Grima had ample time to get to know the rest of the group.

They were certainly a very diverse bunch. Grima swore that every time she walked into the mess tent, Stahl was there stuffing his face. Sully was constantly arguing with Vaike, and Virion had already tried to court Lissa multiple times. Grima was sure the only reason Chrom hadn’t given him the boot was because of his knack for strategy. On the second evening, Grima had played him in a game of chess, and despite finding out she remembered how to play it hadn’t been close whatsoever. 

On another occasion Sumia had approached her, asking her about her power of flight.

“Why do you ask?” Grima had responded curiously.

“Well,” Sumia said, fidgeting. “I’m a pegasus knight in training, so you’d figure I wouldn’t have a problem with this, but… I still get motion sickness sometimes, so I was wondering if you’d be able to help me with that at all…”

“Ah, I see…” Grima looked around, then leaned forward, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I’ll be completely honest, I’ve been experimenting with my power, and, well… if I push myself too much, I also have the same problem.”

Sumia groaned. “Well, that’s really helpful.”

Of course, while all this was going on, there was still Marth, who kept to herself and was always watching closely, seemingly for some sign that the Grima she knew would resurface. Grima really couldn’t blame her. Whatever she had done in her timeline sounded awful. Right now, she quite liked the Shepherds, and she certainly couldn’t imagine hating humanity so much that she would want to _kill_ them all…

It was about three in the afternoon on the third day when they received the report. 

“Risen _this_ far up the Northroad? Unbelievable,” said Chrom through gritted teeth. “I was hoping our march would be uninterrupted, but so be it.”

“Virion?” he shouted, turning his head. “Now might be the time to put your tactics to use.”

“Ah, I see you are in need of my services,” responded the archer, walking up to the head of the convoy. “What do we have in terms of numbers and terrain?”

“It’s a horde of about fifty,” said Frederick with a grimace. “There is quite a bit of dense shrubbery up ahead, as well as a bridge we’ll need to cross while keeping the convoy safe. I do hope you know what you are doing, Virion, or the consequences could be dire.”

“Never fear,” announced Virion with bravado, “for I _always_ have a plan!”

As it turned out, Chrom didn’t really like the plan that Virion decided on, but not having any better options, it was what they went with. 

The Shepherds’ more resilient members were to advance and bait out small groups of Risen, taking the brunt of their assault, before the rest of the group swarmed and dispatched them. Grima would have liked to simply soar above the entire battlefield, raining fire and thunder down on the Risen below, but the rather dense thickets made that inadvisable. The fear was that in the event that some of the Risen escaped her notice, they could be surrounded as they advanced. That, and there was the whole motion sickness problem.

Thankfully, the plan proved effective and the Risen were routed, but not without a few scrapes that were too close for comfort. Kellam had been viciously assaulted by two axemen simultaneously, and after they made camp that night Lissa tried her best to tend to a few particularly nasty bruises. Stahl was resting in the infirmary tent, having sustained a particularly deep gash in his left thigh that had led to severe blood loss.

Chrom stood with Frederick and Virion just outside his tent, going over the day’s battle. Grima happened to be there too, not having anything else to do at the moment.

“I must still thank you, Virion,” Chrom was saying, “as fighting against such large numbers does require tactics of some sort. The problem is, I’m not sure yours specifically will be sustainable at this rate. I’d rather not have our group put in as much danger as they were today…”

“I fear much of my tactical knowledge has been gained from simulations where sacrifice bears no real consequence,” explained Virion, biting his lip. “I will try my utmost to devise safer strategies in the future.”

“Or,” objected Marth, walking up behind them, “you could put Grima in charge of tactics instead.”

Chrom, Grima and Virion jumped, not having noticed her stealthy approach. Frederick just frowned. 

Grima turned to Marth now, mystified. “Why me? I fail to see how I would be a better tactician than Virion. Would I not be better off using my skills on the front lines?”

“Marth, my dear lady,” Virion began, crossing his arms. “You wound me. While I admit my strategies left much to be desired, I hardly think that I should be replaced by someone with minimal knowledge on the subject.”

“Her knowledge is not minimal,” Marth insisted. “Believe me. In the future, before… she became Grima, she was a great tactician. The best I have ever known. She led the Shepherds to many a victory, and I see no reason to believe that she has lost those skills if she has been able to retain her swordplay and magic.”

“You say… before she became Grima, she was a Shepherd?” Chrom narrowed his eyes. Beside him, Grima looked even more confused. “How did she come to be Grima, then? Must you always be so vague?”

“There… are things that I cannot reveal yet,” said Marth, mouth pulled into a thin line. “All will become known in due time. However, to save the Shepherds further hardship, please consider what I have just told you. Virion, I do not mean to belittle your skills, but I know Grima will be able to serve this group much better.”

“Why, I never…!” Virion looked indignant.

“Marth, you become more mysterious by the day,” sighed Chrom, shaking his head. “That aside… I don’t know what you would have to gain by lying about this, so perhaps it’s worth a try?”

Frederick spoke up. “May I suggest testing Grima’s tactical knowledge through war games? Appointing her as our primary tactician so hastily without proof of her abilities would be foolish.”

“A good suggestion, Frederick,” agreed Chrom. “I know it pains you, Virion, but… perhaps you could run Grima through some tactical scenarios, and see how she does?”

“…As you wish,” said Virion, a little resentfully. “Marth! I shall be the judge as to whether Grima is as worthy to succeed me as you say.”

Marth stared at him impassively. “I believe you will find that she is.”

Then she nodded at Chrom again, and strode off back to the perimeter of the camp. Grumbling, Virion motioned for Grima to follow him to the strategy tent.

Chrom rubbed his hands over his face. “Naga give me strength,” he moaned. “This whole situation is getting stranger and stranger by the day.”

“I wholeheartedly agree, milord.”


	5. Warrior (and Tactician) Realm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> btw this still isn't dead until I say so, but school's been crazy and new Pokemon came out so yeah.
> 
> also I got a friend to beta read this so hopefully it's better. enjoy

“I’m freezing, Chrom!” Lissa complained. “Can we get this over with already?”

“Look, Lissa. Unlike me, you actually have two sleeves,” scolded Chrom. “You can’t complain. Besides, we can’t just go walking right up to the fort. Ylisse hasn’t sent delegates to Ferox in over twenty years, so we’ll have to handle this delicately.”

He turned to Frederick. “Where’s Grima?”

“I believe she is discussing tactics with Virion, milord,” Frederick replied. “Again, might I add. She seems to have taken to it like a duck to water.”

“Hm. It seems like Marth was right. Well, regardless, please send for her.”

”Yes, milord.” Frederick bowed before walking off to one of the tents.

“You have a bad feeling about this, Chrom?” asked Lissa, looking up at her brother warily. “I’ve never known you to be this cautious.”

“Yeah,” replied Chrom. “Call it intuition or whatever you want, but I just feel like there’s going to be trouble.”

The two stared up at the tall walls of the fort, cold and imposing. “I’m not sure if I like the idea of fighting up there,” said Lissa.

Chrom smirked slightly at this. “Do you like the idea of fighting anywhere?”

“Aw, c’mon, Chrom!” Lissa whined. “I joined the Shepherds for a reason, you know!”

The siblings heard Grima chuckling as she walked up behind them. “I swear every time I see you two together, you’re bickering,” she commented. “Chrom, you called for me?”

“Oh. Yes,” Chrom began, turning to face her. “I was going to ask if you think you would be up to a bit of scouting…”

He noticed his sister was trying hard to stifle her giggling. “…what is it now, Lissa?”

“Oh, nothing,” said Lissa, grinning. “I just found it funny that the mighty Fell Dragon is wearing a hand-knitted woollen scarf. Where did you get that, anyways?”

“What, this?” Grima tugged at the black knit, looking offended. “I picked it up in the last town. I had some extra coin, and it was cold. Am I not allowed to buy what I want?”

“Lissa,” Chrom scolded. “Yes, she may be the Fell Dragon, but that doesn’t make her any less of a person. Well… at least as far as I can tell. So I don’t see any reason to make a big deal out of a scarf.”

“Alright, alright, sorry,” apologized Lissa, but the grin didn’t leave her face. “It looks good on you though, Grima. Not gonna lie, I kind of want one too.”

Frederick cleared his throat. “Excuse me, perhaps you two can talk about fashion some other time? We have important matters to attend to here.”

This time it was Chrom’s turn to let out a snort of laughter as Lissa stuck her lips out in an exaggerated pout. “Okay, okay, sorry…” she huffed, trudging back off to her tent and leaving them to their business.

“Heh. So what was it you wanted again, Chrom?” Grima asked, clearly amused.

“Ah, right. So about that…”

Sticking to the trees, Grima flew low towards the Longfort, making sure she was staying behind cover. It was already late in the day, so she couldn’t take her time if they were to advance on the fort before the sun went down. To make matters worse, her stomach was already starting to churn. Why can’t gods be immune to nausea, she thought ruefully.

There were a few tall pines within close proximity of the fort’s walls. Grima picked the one with the most foliage cover and ascended behind it, alighting on one of the highest branches. Needles crunched slightly under her boots as she dropped into a crouch, tightening her scarf around her neck. The wind up here was frigid, and it was also causing the tree to sway, which certainly didn’t help her nausea.

She narrowed her eyes and tried to focus. From her perch, she could see all the activity taking place on the Longfort. And there was certainly a lot of it… a little too much, in fact. Soldiers bustled about, preparing weapons and armor. An iron-clad knight was barking orders and pointing around, though the distance was too far for Grima to make out the words.

She frowned. This wasn’t good. The Feroxi were preparing for battle.

Taking a swig of the stomach tonic Stahl had given her, Grima took off back to the Shepherds’ camp.

“Trouble in the wind, Chrom,” said Grima, swooping down to meet him outside the strategy tent. “It seems the Feroxi Guard are mobilizing.”

Chrom ran a hand through his hair. “I feared as much,” he replied, face grim. “Virion’s already started to prepare a plan of battle, just in case. Why don’t you join him? I’ll get the rest of the Shepherds to start making final preparations.”

“Alright.” Grima nodded briskly and ducked into the tent. Chrom looked up once again at the fort’s walls, trying to remember the diplomacy lessons he had been forced to sit through years ago. Right now, he really regretted not having paid more attention...

Well, he thought he had done alright, but apparently it hadn’t been quite good enough.

“Imposters, eh? We’ll show you imposters,” Chrom grunted as Sumia swung her pegasus around to regroup with the Shepherds’ main force. She didn’t respond, face scrunched in steely concentration. Chrom was impressed with her skill. He’d never actually seen her in action before today.

It had been Grima’s idea to have Sumia on standby in case negotiations went awry, and boy, was Chrom glad she had thought of that. 

He dismounted the pegasus with a jolt, just in time for Feroxi soldiers to come charging through the fort’s now opened gates.

“Alright, if it’s a fight they want, then a fight they’ll get!” he shouted to the rest of the Shepherds. “But it’s a show of strength they want, so try to avoid casualties! Remember that you represent Ylisse!”

The group all gave murmurs of assent, and assumed a turtle formation with Kellam and the cavaliers in front, advancing towards the coming onslaught. “Good luck, Grima,” said Chrom, nodding to her before dashing off to join the rest of them.

“Alright then, Sumia,” said Grima, all business. “Right behind me?”

“Right behind you,” echoed Sumia. She looked nervous, but she gripped her lance tightly and there was a determined look in her eyes.

Grima nodded, took one last swig of stomach tonic, then bent her legs and took off into the air towards the fort. Sumia flicked her pegasus’ reins and followed suit, just in time for the Shepherds’ main group to meet the oncoming Feroxi onslaught. Shouts and the clash of iron and steel rang across the snowy plain.

Avoid lethal blows? For Lucina, and she was sure it was the same for the others, this was difficult. It went completely against her years of experience of cutting down Risen, but she did her best to aim for the arms, legs, stomach, wherever wouldn’t kill. Too many dead Feroxi soldiers would be a bad look for Ylisse, Chrom had shouted in explanation, and reluctantly she had to agree.

In front of them, Kellam was delivering vicious shield strikes to any Feroxi who got in range, his armor staving off any serious injury. Vaike parried a enemy soldier’s stab attempt and dealt a brutal body blow in return with the butt of his axe. At least they could still be violent, thought Sully as she ran down an opposing fighter. After all, these were Feroxi they were dealing with. They could take it.

“I’m going in!” Frederick shouted, spinning his horse around and bowling over two soldiers at once with his lance. “Cover me!”

On cue, Virion and Miriel let loose with a hail of arrows and magic, cutting a path for Frederick to charge ahead of the group, straight towards the largest open gate.

Another part of Grima’s master plan. She had entrusted Frederick with the most difficult task: to go right through the fort’s front door. He had disagreed at first, as it meant leaving his lieges’ sides, but Chrom had eventually managed to convince him.

Spurring his horse into a gallop, Frederick rapidly closed the distance. Unhooking a javelin from his back, he hurled it at the panicked Feroxi who was frantically trying to close the gate. The spear struck true, and as he crossed the threshold into the Longfort Frederick followed it up with a gauntleted backhand, sending the soldier sprawling to the ground. 

Gripping his silver lance, he settled his horse into a defensive position as more shouts and footsteps echoed from inside the fort. Grima had said he might have to hold his position for a while.

Bring them on.

Thank the gods for that stomach tonic, Grima thought as she weaved left and right in a dizzying zig-zag pattern, avoiding the arrows flying her way. Most were way off the mark anyways, due in no small part to the Feroxis’ panicked state. Another benefit of being able to fly without a mount, she supposed. Apparently not something you saw every day.

As she closed in on the Longfort’s walls, she pulled an Elthunder tome from her robes and let loose a blast of chain lightning. The electricity arced from archer to archer, sending each of them writhing to the floor.

Touching down with a thump on the roof of the fort, Grima grinned. She could feel the adrenaline starting to kick in, galvanizing her, and the blood was pumping through her veins. Sure, she had turned out to possess an incredible knack for tactics. But she was pretty sure she would always prefer combat more.

She looked up to see more Feroxi charging towards her, axes and swords drawn.

All bunched up. Heh. Amateurs.

Another blast of chain thunder brought half of them down, and right on cue Sumia swooped in to help take care of the rest, sunset rays glinting off her lance. She had been circling high above the fort on Grima’s instructions, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Outgunned and taken completely by surprise, the Feroxi on the fort’s roof were quickly routed. The last was flashily disarmed by Grima, and then felled with a quick elbow to the side of the head. He would probably be concussed for quite some time, she thought with some satisfaction.

She looked down at the plains below the fort, where the Shepherds were slowly beating their attackers back in Grima’s direction. Perfect. Everything according to plan.

“Go help the others,” shouted Grima to Sumia, gesturing to the main battle. “I’ll go relieve Frederick.”

Sumia nodded and took off again, and Grima disappeared down a set of stairs leading down to the fort’s main level. Bound to her command post, Raimi could only watch helplessly as the Shepherds slowly closed in…

It was over. Chrom had wanted to be the one to engage Raimi in single combat, but Frederick had been _vehemently_ against it and had gone in his stead.

Disarmed and soundly beaten, Raimi had apologized profusely, thanked them for sparing the lives of her men (“Told you so,” Chrom said to Sully), and even offered to personally escort them to Ferox’s capital, which Chrom took her up on.

Riding once again in the convoy’s main carriage with his sister, Frederick, and Grima, Chrom was drinking down a steaming cup of elderberry tea. Lissa was huddled under two layers of blankets. Grima looked tired but satisfied, red eyes half closed as she leaned back in her seat.

“I think I like it here,” said Chrom between sips of tea. “Fighting suits me a lot better than all that fancy diplomacy business. That’s Emm’s strong point.”

“I agree,” said Grima, nodding. “Strike first and ask questions later.”

Lissa yawned. “Well, I dunno if I’d say exactly that, but same, more or less. When I was a kid they tried to teach me to speak all fancy, like Mari. But I never got the hang of it.” She pointed. “Hey Grima! Your scarf got torn!”

“So it did,” said Grima a little sadly, tugging at the ripped yarn around her neck. “It doesn’t really do a whole lot for the cold now. Should I keep it?”

“Beats me,” shrugged Lissa. “I don’t see the point. Maybe ask Virion, he’s always going on about the latest fashion trends.”

“Ah,” said Grima, cringing. “In that case, I think I’ll just get rid of it, then.”

Chrom burst out laughing and almost spilled his tea, and everyone else in the carriage joined in.

“It’s still a long way to the capital,” sighed Frederick, smiling despite himself.


	6. Two Falchions (and a conversation)

“Grima? You in here?”

Chrom stepped through the doorway into yet another drab, sparsely furnished room. The fortress where Flavia lived was exactly that, a fortress. Chrom had been expecting something even just a little more elaborate for one of Ferox’s khans, but then again, in Ferox the political leaders were also the military leaders. Hadn’t he learned that just a few days earlier at the Longfort?

At least this particular room was a little more interesting. Full bookshelves lined the walls, and in the centre there was a low table with candles and a few chairs. Said table was where Grima now sat, nose buried in a book. Several more were spread out in front of her, some open to seemingly random pages.

She looked up, noticing Chrom’s entrance. “Oh, Chrom. Did you need something?”

“Not in particular,” Chrom shrugged. “I was just wondering where you were. I hadn’t seen you all day. Having a good time?”

“Somewhat,” Grima said, pursing her lips. “I’ll be honest, I expected more from Ferox’s royal library, but it seems that writing literature isn’t a common pursuit around these parts.”

Chrom laughed. “From what we’ve seen, I’m hardly surprised.” He pulled up a chair, sitting down. “What’s that you’ve got right now?”

“It’s a treatise on Feroxi swordfighting styles,” said Grima, tapping at the book’s leather cover. “The majority of them are intended for men with larger builds, though, so there’s isn’t much I’ve been able to glean from it so far.”

“Why don’t you just try sparring with some of the soldiers stationed here instead?” asked Chrom. “See what you can learn. I’ve been doing a lot of that while waiting for this blasted tournament to begin.”

Grima leaned lazily back in her chair, a ghost of a smile on her face. “Oh, I don’t know. I doubt any of them could hold a candle to me one-on-one.”

“Now you say this, and yet Marth is the one fighting in the tournament tomorrow,” Chrom groaned. “Why is that again?”

“She knew who the West-Khan’s champion was before Flavia did,” recalled Grima, thinking back to a few days ago. “And she said she knew his fighting style, somehow, and exactly how to beat it... since she is from the future and all, I suppose. It’s all very strange.”

“That seems to have become the norm these days,” agreed Chrom. “Well, you’re from the future too, aren’t you? Although… I suppose that doesn’t matter in this case because of your amnesia.”

“About that...” Grima’s expression turned somber. “I’ve been meaning to speak with you, Chrom. Regarding what Marth said back then, when we first met.”

“Ah. Yes, that.” Chrom nodded and let out a slow breath. “I had a feeling we’d be having this conversation at some point. It’s about what she said about you essentially... destroying her world, right?”

“With our downtime recently, I’ve had time to think about it,” Grima said slowly, her eyebrows furrowed. “And… the more I do, the more disturbing it is. At first I didn’t want to believe it, but if it’s true? Slaughtering countless innocents... that is not something I wish to have on my conscience. And I’m not sure I even belong here if that truly is what happened.”

Chrom hesitated. “Listen, Grima…” 

He reached over to put a hand on her arm. “If you wanted me to tell you I don’t believe what Marth said, then I’ll have to disappoint you. Because I do. After all, it’s written in our history books that you tried to do exactly that in the past.” 

Seeing the pained look that flashed across his tactician’s face, he added quickly, “But that doesn’t mean I won’t continue to trust you. After all, who am I to deny someone else a second chance?”

“But… why?” Grima asked after a pause, sounding incredulous. “If you really do believe that…”

“Well, it’s not like I didn’t give it any thought,” Chrom replied. “In fact, the night after we met Marth, I lay awake in bed for hours thinking about it. To trust someone who has done the things that you have? Even though at the time you were probably a different person with different memories, I still wasn’t quite sure.”

Grima didn’t respond, so Chrom continued.

“In the end, though, I wasn’t going to abandon what I believe in. Redemption is one of Ylisse’s core values, after all, and Emmeryn certainly would have come to the same decision as me.”

He snorted. “Ironically, the Hero-King who Marth named herself after likely would have done the same, instead of trying to kill you on sight.”

A choked laugh escaped Grima’s lips, and Chrom looked up. She was staring down at the table, avoiding his gaze, and Chrom realized she was holding back tears. Oops. Bad timing for a joke.

“Seriously, though,” he added quickly. “It’s written in history how former criminals were some of his most trusted allies.” 

Fishing his handkerchief out of a pocket, he offered it to Grima. She accepted it wordlessly, dabbing at her eyes. 

“I still don’t know exactly who you are,” he said. “Marth won’t tell me who you were in your world before you became Grima. Believe me, I’ve asked. But that’s all in the past regardless. You’ve been fighting alongside us, and even led us to victory in that battle at the Longfort. I think you’ve more than proven yourself worthy of trust.”

He smiled. “In fact, in my eyes you’ve already begun to redeem yourself from your past.”

The tears were flowing freely down Grima’s face now, Chrom’s handkerchief sandwiched between it and her hands. Chrom wondered just how long she had been dwelling on this for.

“I suppose the question is still unanswered as to what memories could drive you to do such things,” he added as an afterthought. “But again, I’ve chosen to overlook that. Maybe the situation will change if you do remember, I don’t know. But for now, you’re one of us, and nothing can take that away.”

Overcome by strange, unfamiliar emotions, Grima just sat there, continuing to cry. Not sure what to do, Chrom sat there with her, awkwardly patting her shoulder. After a while, she finally spoke up.

“You’re either incredibly naive or too noble for your own good, Chrom,” she mumbled. “But… I thank you anyways.” She looked up at him, red eyes teary but determined. “I won’t betray your trust or forgiveness. I swear it.”

Chrom smiled. “I don’t doubt that. Thank _you_, Grima.”

The following evening, the Shepherds filed into Arena Ferox. Flavia had reserved them front-row seats for the duel, but this came with the unfortunate bonus of being able to hear every shouted word between her and Basilio, whose own seating areas were right above them.

“Hey, oaf! Ready to give up the country’s reins?”

“Ba ha ha! Your champion looks like she could snap at a stiff breeze!”

“As if Lon’qu has any more meat on his bones!”

“HA! Certainly more than you do!”

And so on. Chrom almost couldn’t believe his ears, and he could see his fellow Shepherds also exchanging incredulous looks. Ferox certainly was a strange place. 

A loud roar went up from the crowd. Marth and Lon’qu had entered the arena and were slowly walking towards each other, sizing each other up. 

“From my primary analysis, they seem rather evenly matched in terms of stature and physique,” murmured Miriel. Chrom silently agreed, although he probably would have used less words. They would just have to see whether Marth’s foreknowledge would grant her as large an advantage as she had claimed.

He glanced over at Grima, who was also watching the combatants intently. They had talked some earlier, and she hadn’t mentioned their conversation from the previous day. Not like Chrom had expected her to. She didn’t seem like the type to let her guard down often. However, he had noticed a new lightness to the way she had talked, as if a weight had been taken off her shoulders.

Chrom allowed himself a slight smile, happy for his tactician, but now he turned his attention back to the situation at hand. He really hoped he had made the right choice. Marth winning this duel was an absolute must. She had seemed so confident, and now he hoped that confidence was founded.

Despite his position as Ylisse’s heir apparent, Chrom had never been very religious. Now, however, he sent off a quick prayer to Naga as the two combatants circled each other, drawing their swords…

Lucina grunted as she parried another of Lon’qu’s strikes, then ducked out of the way of a high slash. So far, his style had been exactly how she remembered, which was good. The only problem was that for this particular situation, it was almost flawless. Lon’qu’s technique beautifully blended offense and defense, and it was tailored specifically for one-on-one combat. Even with her knowledge, beating him in a straight fight would be difficult.

She did know of one weakness she could exploit, though.

“Lon’qu!” she cried as she backed off slightly, sword still raised. “I must say… your skills are impressive. However, you still leave me wanting!”

“…What?” Lon’qu frowned. None of his opponents had ever tried to banter with him before.

“I chose to fight for the Shepherds because I thought you would be a challenge,” Lucina declared with as much bravado as she could muster. “However, I find myself disappointed at your lack of skill!”

She cringed internally. That was awful. It had the desired effect anyways, though, as Lon’qu’s face flushed with anger. The man really couldn’t take any blow to his pride, joke or not. 

“No more talking! Just fight!” he hissed, lunging at her once again. 

Heh. His most glaring weakness. Question his fighting prowess, and he became irritated and reckless. Now his movements were just the slightest bit more rushed, and Lucina could see her openings to counterattack. She had to wait for the right moment, though, he would only give her one chance…

There. A glaring overextension on an overhead slash. Using the momentum from her sidestep, Lucina grabbed Lon’qu’s arm with her free hand and pulled him in close, knocking him off balance.

“Wha-“ was all Lon’qu managed to get out before Lucina’s knee met his stomach. 

Now completely thrown off his game, he was swiftly disarmed by a quick flick of Lucina’s sword, and at that point it was all over. He was forced to the ground as Lucina held her blade to his neck.

Defeated, by a woman no less. Lon’qu smacked the ground beside him in frustration.

The arena shook with the pleased roars of the Feroxi spectators, and for just a moment Lucina let herself drink in the cheers and applause of the crowd. There were so many _happy_ people here. Even if they weren’t her people, this was still what she had come back in time to save. 

She let out a breath she hadn’t known she had been holding. One step towards a better future.

Above the Shepherds, Basilio was fuming as Flavia gloated over him, overjoyed to finally have the Feroxi throne once more.

“Well fought, Marth. You have my gratitude.”

Lucina nodded curtly, once again suppressing the urge to call Chrom “Father”. Maybe later, much later, but for now she had to control herself.

“I simply did what I had to,” she replied, deciding not to mention that he had suffered a crippling injury to his sword hand against Lon’qu in her timeline. Again, such things were better left unsaid.

“I noticed your style looked very similar to the one I was taught,” Chrom continued, looking at her appraisingly. “Were you part of the Ylissean Royal Guard in your time, by any chance?”

Lucina’s blood ran cold. Of course he would have recognized her techniques, he was the one who had taught her. “Ah… n-no. No, I was not,” she stammered. “I, uh… was taught by my father. Yes, my father…”

Chrom looked a little confused at Lucina’s flustered reaction, but to her relief, he didn’t get to question her any further. “I see,” was all he managed to get out before Basilio clapped a hand on his shoulder and pulled him aside.

Good, Lon’qu was still joining the Shepherds’ cause, thought Lucina as she eavesdropped from outside the room. Thankfully her intervention here didn’t seem like it would have too major of an effect on the timeline.

She turned to leave back to her quarters, but a gruff voice stopped her.

“You.”

Uh oh.

“I’ve been assigned to your army now,” Lon’qu growled from the doorway. “So I want to know how you defeated me. And I also want a rematch.”

Well, nuts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> robin will show up soon...


	7. The Exalt and the King (and the Fell Dragon)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> every chapter keeps getting longer lol
> 
> (you're welcome)

“What do you think?” Chrom asked, joining Grima at the edge of camp. She was staring toward the pass where Emmeryn was to offer parley, brow furrowed.

“I don’t like it,” she said shortly. “We’ll be incredibly exposed in there.”

“I agree,” nodded Chrom. “This whole thing seems like a setup.”

“...What kind of man is Gangrel?” Grima asked, turning to Chrom. “I’ve heard you speak nothing but ill of him.”

Chrom’s face grew dark. “Where do I even start? They don’t call him the Mad King for nothing. He’s power hungry, probably not right in the head, and ever since Emm became Exalt he’s been trying to provoke us into another war. This is probably his boldest move yet.”

“Hm. I figured as much,” said Grima, thinking. “Has Phila’s scout reported back yet?”

“Not to my knowledge,” said Chrom. “Wait… there she is now.”

Grima looked up as a pegasus knight swooped in from above the pass, her cherry-red hair billowing out behind her. She landed flawlessly beside them, dismounting in one smooth motion.

“Well,” said Grima, raising her eyebrows. “That was certainly an impressive entrance. What’s your name, may I ask?”

“I’m Cordelia,” replied the woman, nodding. “I assume you’re the so-called ‘Fell Dragon’ I’ve been hearing so much about?”

“Am I that popular now?” Grima asked amusedly. “But yes, that’s me. I’m the primary tactician for the Shepherds, and I assure you I’m nothing like what the history books say. It’s good to meet you.”

Chrom laughed. “Grima, I already told you to not worry about that! You know, most Ylisseans don’t even believe the old stories anyways.”

“Alright, alright.” Grima smiled. “I’m glad for that, I suppose. Anyways, we should allow Cordelia to make her report.”

“Right,” agreed Chrom, growing serious once more. “What did you see over there, Cordelia? We need a plan in case a battle breaks out. You know Gangrel’s reputation as well as I.”

“Y-Yes, of course, milord,” said Cordelia, blushing fiercely. “T-They have the standard Plegian infantry, but I also saw dark mages and wyvern riders.”

Chrom frowned, oblivious to how flustered Cordelia was getting. “Wyvern riders? That’s not good.”

“...No, it’s not,” agreed Grima, giving Cordelia a sidelong glance. “I assume they intend to match our air force… how many were there compared to our pegasus knights?”

“O-Our numbers are about equal, I’d say,” Cordelia replied, embarrassed at not being able to control herself around the prince. “That said... very few of us would be able to defeat a Plegian wyvern rider one on one. They’re just too heavily armored.”

“Hm. What about in a full-scale battle? I would assume pegasus knights are more mobile.”

“Yes, that’s true, but… it’s hard to tell. I would like to say we would be fairly evenly matched, but I’m not sure.”

“Alright…” murmured Grima, now deep in thought. 

“My thanks for scouting for us, Cordelia,” said Chrom, smiling at her. 

Cordelia didn’t respond, but simply nodded before mounting her pegasus and flying off, face now a deep scarlet red.

“She always acts strangely around me, that Cordelia,” Chrom mused. “I wonder why.”

Even though she was busy running through battle scenarios in her head, Grima still snickered. “Hmm yes, I wonder.”

Half an hour later, Grima called a meeting at the strategy tent to go over the plan of battle. Emmeryn immediately insisted on calling it a “contingency plan”, which made Chrom roll his eyes. “It is not a contingency plan,” he muttered under his breath to Grima. “I think a peaceful resolution would be the contingency plan.”

Grima stifled a laugh and proceeded with the briefing.

“...Alright, and that’s all," Grima finished. "Any questions or concerns?”

Chrom spoke up. “I think if possible, you may not want to use some of your more… arcane talents here, like your flight. Unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

Grima frowned. “Why? The pegasus squadron will suffer if I can’t assist them.”

“Well, remember how I told you that much like Ylisse worships Naga, Plegia does so with you?” Chrom asked. Frederick and Phila also nodded, understanding what Chrom was getting at.

“...Ah. Yes, I remember that.” Grima nodded slowly. “I can see how that could be a problem."

She put a hand to her chin, thinking. "Well, that complicates things. I should have realized that earlier."

"It should still be fine," Chrom assured her. "As long as we're quick about getting Miriel and Virion up the cliffs to support our aerial force."

"I don't know…” said Grima hesitantly. “Phila, you have no objections to this?”

“I have confidence in my squadron,” said Phila evenly. “If the battle begins going south, however, you will be the first to know.”

Grima let out a slow breath. “Alright then. I don’t like it, but we’ve no time to come up with another plan. I suppose we will just have to hope for the best...”

To the surprise of absolutely no one, “the best” did not happen. Grima was actually glad Ricken had disobeyed orders and came along, as he was the only welcome surprise in a situation that went downhill fast. As it turned out, wind spells were _incredibly_ effective against wyverns. Maribelle could more than pull her weight with a staff as well, which certainly helped.

Overhead, the pegasus knights were engaged in an all-out battle with the Plegian wyvern riders. Just as Cordelia had predicted, the Ylisseans were more mobile and were avoiding any serious casualties so far, but were having trouble actually inflicting any damage.

Meanwhile on the ground, the Shepherds were being hit hard by dark mages stationed atop the cliffs. Grima had managed to pick up an arcthunder tome from a vendor on the way to the Plegian border, and she was using it now to pick off each mage one by one. Lissa was out of breath, running around trying to patch up everyone who had taken a Flux to the face.

Grima gritted her teeth. This would have been so much easier with fliers, but she had sent Sumia off to assist the pegasus squadron, and per Chrom’s recommendation she was grounded for this battle. Yet another reason they had to get atop those cliffs fast.

“Frederick!” she shouted, pointing up the cliffside. “There’s a trail behind us leading up to the cliffs. Take Maribelle, Ricken and Stahl and go!”

“Understood!” Frederick yelled back, scooping Ricken up onto his horse and galloping off. Stahl did the same with Maribelle, and was not spared the flood of complaints that resulted.

“Ugh!” Grima heard her cry. “If only I had my own horse here!”

Rolling her eyes, Grima fired another bolt of arcthunder at the steppes above, electrocuting yet another dark mage.

The fighting around them was fierce and showed no sign of abating anytime soon. Gangrel had brought a sizeable force to the border, and Sully and Kellam were doing their best to stem the tide of axe fighters and myrmidons that streamed from the Plegian side of the pass. Alongside them, Marth was a whirlwind of silver, cutting down foe after foe with forceful strikes.

Preparing another spell, Grima cringed at the nearby scream of a wyvern as Miriel and Virion took it down with well-placed fireballs and arrows. 

Chrom came running up behind her. “Grima!” he shouted. “Where should I be?”

“Is Emmeryn safe?” she yelled in response, tossing another bolt of lightning at a mage on the north cliff. This one impacted on the cliffside a meter too low, scattering rock fragments everywhere. She cursed under her breath.

“Lon’qu’s guarding her back at camp,” replied Chrom, “but I had to come back to help fight. Give me something to do.”

Grima quickly sized up the battlefield. “Over there,” she said, pointing. A fresh wave of fighters had just emerged from an old fort, and Marth, having overextended herself, was beating a hasty retreat back behind the Shepherds’ front line. “Go help Marth, and watch for Flux. Dark mages on the cliffs.”

Chrom nodded, running off and drawing Falchion from his sheath. At the same time, shouts broke out on the cliffside to the right. Grima looked up to see Frederick mercilessly running down a pair of mages as Ricken jumped off the horse and began blasting blades of elwind skyward, aiming to disrupt the enemy wyvern formations.

“Good, good,” she muttered, taking out another mage on the opposite cliff face who had been bold enough to poke his head out. She wasn’t missing twice in a row.

Up in the sky, the battle wasn’t going nearly as well.

“Sumia! Are you holding up?” Cordelia shouted, pulling up beside her. Her normally beautiful features were obscured by sweat and blood.

“As well as I can,” gasped Sumia, feeling exhausted. Adrenaline - and Stahl’s stomach tonic, that stuff really was a godsend - were the only things keeping her going at this point. “Have we... lost any riders?”

“No, thank Naga,” Cordelia replied. “But a third of the squadron’s already retreated due to injuries, and I think we’ve only downed... six wyverns?” She shook her head, face grim. “I hate to admit it, but we’re thoroughly outclassed, and soon we’ll be outnumbered too.”

Sumia could see what Cordelia meant. The Plegian riders were flying higher now, wary of the arrows and blades of wind the Shepherds had been sending their way.

“Well, what do we do?” Sumia asked, trying hard to not let her fear take over.

“We just have to fight smarter than them,” said Cordelia, gaze determined. “Over there. Captain Phila!”

She flicked her reins, and Sumia followed suit, the two streaking through the air towards their captain. Phila was fighting off two riders at once, who had realized she was the squadron’s only healer and were attempting to flank her.

“Sumia! Triangle attack!” shouted Cordelia, banking her pegasus around. Sumia nodded and pulled up high, remembering her training in the iconic Ylissean attack formation.

Phila saw them coming and initiated the attack, abruptly charging at one of the wyverns. Her attack was just barely parried by the rider, but it left him wide open to Cordelia from behind and Sumia from above. Unsure which way to dodge, Cordelia’s lance caught him squarely through the chest and ripped him from his mount. He screamed as he plummeted downward to the pass. 

“Get him too!” shouted Cordelia as the other rider attempted to flee, calling for help. Sumia swung her pegasus around to intercept him, her lance slashing across his arms. Now unable to control his wyvern, the rider was helpless to stop Phila spearing him through the stomach and flinging him down to the cliffs below.

“Good work, girls,” said Phila shortly, her breath heavy. “Now let’s go help the others. We’ll win this yet.”

Slowly but surely, the Shepherds were gaining ground. They’d cleared three forts of Plegians now, and Chrom stopped to catch his breath, wiping his sword clean on the robes of a Plegian myrmidon he had just felled.

Virion and Ricken were up ahead with Frederick, trying to get as high up on the cliffs as possible to assist the pegasus knights, who still looked like they were fighting a losing battle. Chrom had been seeing Ylissean fliers retreat from the battlefield en masse, and he could only count eleven of theirs now amid the swarm of wyverns. 

Being able to fly like Grima would be useful right about now, he thought worriedly as he plunged back into the front lines.

Flying low, Sumia led the wyvern rider chasing her over the pass, but she didn’t look back. Instead, her eyes were scanning below, looking for that telltale flash of blue…

There it was. A blade of compressed air sliced through the sky into her attacker, ripping through wyvern flesh like butter. The rider yelled in shock and fear as his mount plummeted to the ground. Thanks, Ricken.

Her relief was short-lived, though, as a scream sounded out above her. Sumia pulled up just in time to see one of her fellow knights wide-eyed and lifeless, an axe buried in her chest. 

“No!” she cried, even as the Plegian finished the job by clipping the wings of the pegasus, dooming it to also fall to earth with its rider.

In streaked Phila, a terrifying expression on her face. The wyvern rider was too slow to react as she buried her lance into him at full speed, taking him cleanly off his mount.

Avenged, but at what cost? Sumia continued to watch in horror as Phila, now horribly overextended, was quickly swarmed by four wyverns at once. Not even she would be able to take them all on simultaneously. The remaining pegasus knights circled around, looking for a way in to assist their captain, but the wyvern riders moved to block their path. Even from this far away, Sumia could make out Cordelia’s desperate face as she frantically tried to find a way through the wall of Plegians. What now?

Phila’s lance flashed in the sun, even managing to knock one rider off his mount, but there were just too many of them as a steel axe sliced a deep gash in her left shoulder. She sucked in a pained breath, listing to one side of her mount, and then she spoke gasped words to the pegasus and rolled off her saddle into thin air. 

That signal - four fingers raised. It was a tactical ejection, as they had called it in flight school. Done only when the rider had no other choice, it relied on another knight being around to catch them. Her training kicking in, Sumia took off to intercept Phila’s falling trajectory. She was in range, she could catch her...

But then yet _another_ wyvern rider swooped in to intercept her. No, no, no! They really were outnumbered, outgunned, and there was no way Sumia would be able to get to Phila in time before she hit the ground now…

Then dark spikes shredded wyvern and rider alike into gruesome ribbons, and Grima was there, eyes blazing. 

“What are you - but - the Plegians!” sputtered Sumia, shocked. “They’ll - ”

“I don’t care. No more death today on my watch,” said Grima, shaking her head. “Get Phila. Go!”

As Sumia swooped her pegasus earthward, she couldn’t help but turn her head to watch Grima rocket up to join the battle above...

It had been way too close, but Sumia had caught her captain in the nick of time. By the time she got back to camp, Phila bleeding out over her shoulder, wyverns were already dropping from the sky like stones. The few spared from Grima’s wrath were retreating back to Plegian territory at full speed. It looked like the Shepherds had won the battle on the ground as well, as their members were trickling back into camp, all looking exhausted.

Phila was quickly taken into the infirmary tent by the pegasus squad’s clerics, and Sumia staggered off her mount to a nearby bush, vomiting profusely into it. Suddenly feeling incredibly weak and tired, she flopped down on the spot, not even bothering to clean herself up. Tears welled up in her eyes. One of her fellow knights was dead. Phila had almost died too, and was now seriously injured. The pegasus squadron was in shambles. Things didn’t have to be this way… why did they have to be this way?

“That’s the reality of war for ya,” came a voice from above her. Sully. 

“Y’know, when I was younger I actually _wanted_ there to be a war. So I could show my stuff and all that.” She sat down beside Sumia, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Yeah… now? I don’t know about that one.”

In Plegia Castle later that night, a lone wyvern rider entered an audience chamber, kneeling before the woman standing at its front.

“Milady Aversa.”

“Yes. What brings you here?”

"I have information that may concern the Grimleal.”

“Very well. Speak.”

“After you left with Gangrel, our wyvern squadron was soundly winning the aerial battle against the Ylissean pegasus knights. But then, we were attacked by a woman who possessed the power of flight and incredibly powerful dark magic. She solely turned the tide of the battle for the Ylisseans.”

“...Well, that is certainly unusual. However, I fail to see anything of interest in your statement.”

“She wore a Grimleal cloak.”

“...Oh?”

“Another thing, if I may be so bold... I have heard that the Vessel has white hair. And piercing red eyes. So did this woman.”

“...Hm. That is enough. You may go.”

“Yes, milady.”

The wyvern rider rose and left the room, and Aversa turned to Validar, who had been listening from the back. 

“What do you make of this, master?”

Validar was silent for a moment.

“...Nothing yet. However, with the sudden appearance of the Risen, I have my suspicions.”

Aversa waited for Validar to elaborate, but he did not, to her disappointment.

“I must speak to my son,” he said, walking to the door. “You are dismissed for today, Aversa.”

“My master Grima… fighting for the Shepherds? Inconceivable...” Validar mumbled as he walked down the hall. He rapped sharply on the door. “Robin. I will have words.”

Inside the room sat a white-haired young man, reading Grima’s Truth for the two hundred and ninety-first time. He heard the knock and closed the faded tome with a thump. 

“Yes, father,” he replied.


End file.
